


Separation

by betsybo



Category: Father Ted
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Cuddling, First Kiss, Getting Together, I apologise, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, a lot of cuddling, but hopefully entertaining, exposition-tastic, so much text
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:56:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14900117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betsybo/pseuds/betsybo
Summary: Ted isn't quite sure what his feelings for Dougal are, but he knows his own mind. And he knows that they can't possibly share a bedroom anymore. Dougal, as it turns out - doesn't agree.





	Separation

**Author's Note:**

> Although it’s a shame there’s so little Father Ted fic out there, I have to say that the small selection we do have is just great. This fic owes a lot to Ilthit’s ‘Have You Heard About Our Ted?’ and Batgur’s lovely ‘Pleasure’ series, so thank you to both of those authors. I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, mean no disrespect, and am just having fun.

 

Ted awoke in the middle of the night to find a warm, familiar body crammed up against his side.

 

‘ _Dougal_ ,’ he groaned, shifting away to the far side of the bed but not actually managing to put any distance between him and his friend.

 

‘Sorry, Ted,’ whispered Dougal in reply, but he made no effort to move.

 

‘Come on, back to your own bed now.’

 

‘Please can I stay here, Ted? Just for tonight?’

 

Dougal sounded anxious, and when Ted looked he could just about see his wide, nervous eyes in the semi-darkness. Ted hesitated. This _was_ the major reason why they shared a bedroom in the first place; Dougal hated sleeping alone. For the most part he seemed to just need assurance that someone was there beside him, but occasionally something would frighten him enough to drive him into Ted’s bed.

 

‘Bad dream?’ Ted asked him finally.

 

‘Not really,’ said Dougal vaguely.

 

‘What then?’

 

Dougal didn’t reply, only bit his lip and gave a kind of one-shouldered shrug.

 

Ted frowned. It always worried him whenever Dougal couldn’t (or wouldn’t) share something on his mind, because usually his friend would happily speak his inner most thoughts whether Ted wanted to hear them or not. At such times, fear was always at the heart of the matter and Ted knew he couldn’t possibly refuse him. It would only make the problem worse for Dougal, and ultimately both of them, if he did.

 

‘Look, all right,’ said Ted, trying to shift just a little further away.

 

Dougal beamed wide as he snuggled closer to Ted, throwing an arm over his chest.

 

‘Oof!’ grunted Ted. ‘This wasn’t really what I – Anyway, look. We’ll have to talk about this tomorrow, Dougal. Yes?’

 

‘Yeah, Ted,’ said Dougal happily, and tucked his head against Ted’s shoulder, exhaling softly.

 

Ted lay there beneath his friend's warm weight, anticipating a question or statement from wherever Dougal’s stream of consciousness was at that moment, but it didn’t come. At least the cuddling would put a stop to any wriggling, he knew. It always did.

 

After a while the only sounds were Dougal’s light breaths, and the wind whistling around the house. Ted sighed. He had tried a few times to wean Dougal off this habit, and to counsel him to see if there might be a root cause for his fears, but they never did get very far. Essentially it came down to the fact that Dougal was very impressionable, and no matter how many charts Ted drew up for him distinguishing fact from fiction, his imagination remained overactive and unpredictable. One Christmas, Ted had given him a stuffed bear in the hope it might provide him with enough company for the night to soothe his bad dreams, but despite Dougal treasuring it, the bear (named Ted) remained in its ‘house’ in the little bedside cabinet on his side of the room. Dougal liked to get the bear out and hug it from time to time, but he’d never taken it into bed with him.

 

It wasn’t that sharing a bed with Dougal was unpleasant in itself. It wasn’t. For someone with a fair few annoying habits, Dougal was a surprisingly inoffensive roommate. But Ted knew that that was exactly the point; it should have been uncomfortable sharing such close proximity with another man. Looking back over the last few years, Ted had to admit it had been a very successful arrangement. And even on those occasions when Dougal climbed into bed with him, the awkwardness they both _should_ have felt was just never there. Once they were settled in, it felt just about as normal (and as _right_ ) as it did when they were both lying in their separate beds. Dougal would actually quiet down sooner than usual; even his sleep talking was minimal once he was cuddled against Ted.

 

Tonight, however, Ted _was_ uncomfortable. But not because he wanted to get away from Dougal. Far from it. With every breath he took he could smell his friend; the soap he used in the bath, and the laundry detergent on his pyjamas, and beneath that, the smell of his skin. And Ted liked it. He liked it so much that he was afraid to stay awake with his own thoughts, and he was even more afraid to sleep for fear of the dreams he knew that would follow. The odd sex dream was nothing out of the ordinary for him, and he enjoyed them when they happened. However, it was all very well when he was fantasising over a woman from the television or from his past, it was quite another thing to be having dreams about _Dougal_. And they were torturous visions; leaving him aching with desire even when they reached their full conclusion. They usually began the same way; they were together on the beach, and Dougal was getting pinker and pinker, until Ted would decide enough was enough and grab the sun cream. The worst part was that _this_ part of the dream had actually happened a few times. Dougal was hopeless at applying sun cream and didn’t seem to like getting his face wet, so when they went abroad Ted frequently put the stuff on his face for him. But when they’d gone to Jamaica, Ted had put his foot down and ended up slathering it all over Dougal’s chest and back as well, which was, no doubt, why the next part of the fantasy always ended up going where it did.

 

 Just what the hell was _wrong_ with him, thought Ted? He’d told himself repeatedly that there was absolutely nothing about Dougal that should have encouraged such a response. He’d been reasoning with himself ever since the dreams started that it was only happening because he and Dougal shared a tactile relationship, and that he was probably feeling lonelier since his near-escape to America. In fact, on the latter note, he knew he was _definitely_ still feeling a lingering guilt for almost going through with it. But he knew that that didn’t account for all his feelings. Despite being an oddity in many ways, Dougal was a very handsome young man, and his gentleness, along with his rather fey personality only attracted Ted to him even more. And Ted was _so_ disappointed in himself. He should have seen it coming; should have identified the moment where they were getting too close and put his foot down whenever Dougal had tried to get into bed with him. But for the life of him he couldn’t recall when that point in their relationship might have been. He had, from the very beginning of their acquaintance, felt that on some level Dougal was his responsibility. Despite finding his friend’s lacking intellect frustrating and his capacity to make inappropriate comments really quite astonishing, Ted had genuinely liked him from the start. Dougal was sweet and actually great fun to be around, and Ted valued his opinion even if he very rarely had one.

 

Dougal nuzzled at Ted’s chest then.

 

‘I love you, Ted,’ he murmured softly.

 

‘Ha!’ Ted exclaimed awkwardly, not loud enough to disturb Dougal but enough to fill the silence left in the wake of his declaration. He looked down at him. Had Dougal really just said – ? Should he turn on the light and demand an explanation, he wondered?

 

Dougal sighed, seemingly oblivious to what he’d said, and to Ted’s shock.

 

No, Ted decided; watching his serene expression as his heart gave a pang. It was best to let the words pass unquestioned. Dougal was likely half-asleep, and if he’d said it consciously he obviously meant that he _admired_ Ted; looked up to him as a mentor. Ted wasn’t entirely convinced that Dougal even _had_ a sexuality of any kind, and so there couldn’t be any serious cause for concern; not about _Dougal_ , at any rate. Their situation in life was lonely, he knew all too well, and Dougal’s words and his need for physical contact were probably just as a result of him pining for a little affection. Nothing unreasonable about that. Not like Ted, who was now wondering if he might just be sick; projecting his desires onto someone who surely wouldn’t even understand, let alone return his feelings. This entire obsession of his was a complete betrayal of his dear friend, who was nearly thirteen years younger than him to boot.

 

Ted glanced down, just able to see the tip of Dougal’s nose over his fringe. _Why_ did he have to be so soft and clean smelling? He’d like to pretend that that was the only thing drawing him to his friend, but it was too late. Far, far too late. Dougal was no longer some innocuous company he merely put up with, and was well into being a completely gorgeous presence Ted yearned for, and there was no going back that he could see. Why couldn’t the lad just be... _hairier_ or something, like effing-Todd-Unctious?

 

That was an idea, actually, Ted thought. Picturing not-Todd-Unctious in his Y-Fronts was enough to put a person off anything. God, that night had been mortifying. Although, in retrospect it was probably better that ‘Todd’ had only invaded _his_ personal space and not Dougal’s as well. For one thing, Ted would likely have killed him if he’d tried, and for another, Dougal wouldn’t have tolerated such close proximity. Social etiquette would never cow Dougal into accepting unwanted behaviour, even when he actually understood what was going on.

 

And now Ted was back to thinking about Dougal; and he had to admit to himself then that probably no amount of body hair or ill-fitting Y-fronts could ever put him off his friend.

 

So... was he in love with Dougal, Ted wondered? Oh, he knew he _loved_ him, but that wasn’t the same thing. The latter was more in line with ‘the Lord’s love’ (as he always said when trying help Dougal to distinguish platonic love from romantic love – with only partial success), but the former? He thought back to the time he’d tried to tell Dougal he liked him, and what a disaster _that_ had been. He’d had more success in stopping an actual plane from going down. Dougal hadn’t seemed to understand at all, so how on Earth would Ted begin to try and explain to him that he was in love with him? If he _was_ , that is.

 

Whatever his own feelings were, Ted knew that trying to initiate anything between them was absolutely out of the question. It could destroy their friendship, and possibly traumatise Dougal for life. It would have to end tomorrow, he decided with a heavy heart. He’d allowed this to carry on for far too long. He knew what he had to do.

 

 

 

Ted’s mood did not dissipate the next morning as he woke up with a, by now regular, throbbing hard on, and Dougal’s warm, inviting body still pressed close to him. He quickly disentangled himself from the other man and fled to the bathroom to sort himself out. The physical side of his interest in Dougal was like some horrible joke; a second puberty that had no end in sight. He wasn’t sure if it had been a mistake to indulge himself once or twice to his fantasies; if by now things would be better or worse if he hadn’t. But it was too late to wonder about that now, as it was too late for so many other things.

 

He timed his conversation with Dougal carefully, knowing that his friend would need a full stomach and to have as few distractions as possible or it would be a wild goose chase trying to get through to him. When Dougal arrived home from taking Jack out for his midday walk, Ted helped him settle Jack down in his armchair with a bottle of whiskey, and accepted lunch and two teas from Mrs. Doyle at the table. Dougal ate his sandwich with one hand and started drawing on a piece of paper with the other. Ted, however, found it difficult to eat and eventually abandoned the remaining half of his sandwich after forcing down the first. He tapped his fingers nervously on either side of his mug, waiting until Dougal finished his lunch before clearing his throat.

 

‘Dougal,’ he said casually. ‘Do you ever think it might be time for you to have your own room?’

 

‘What kind of room, Ted?’ asked Dougal mildly, glancing up.

 

‘Well, a _bedroom_.’

 

Dougal appeared to sense the important nature of Ted’s question, because he blinked at him and put his crayon down.

 

‘Think about it,’ Ted continued. ‘You’d have a bit of privacy; your own space. And you could put your posters and things up all over it.’

 

‘But there’s only three bedrooms,’ said Dougal, ‘and Jack and Mrs. Doyle are in the other two.’

 

‘There’s also the spare bedroom, which is usually empty.’

 

Dougal marvelled at this revelation.

 

‘Why would we need to share a room if we can each have our own?’ he asked.

 

Ted nodded slightly, relieved at how Dougal was taking things so far.

 

‘Well, that’s what I’m saying,’ he said. ‘And you know, that _was_ the original plan when you first joined us.’

 

‘Was it?’

 

‘Yes. You know, before we found out you had a bit of trouble – sleeping alone?’

 

Dougal laughed.

 

‘That’s true!’ he said, grinning dreamily.

 

Ted huffed out a bitter laugh. No wonder Bishop Brennan had been so gleeful over the phone when telling Ted of Dougal’s arrival. It now pained him to imagine his young friend having to cope at his previous parish with no one willing to stay with him at night. In retrospect it was actually unsurprising that Dougal’s stint there had ended in disaster.

 

‘But I think we – that is I think _you’re_ ready to try it, Dougal,’ he said gently.

 

‘Try what, Ted?’ asked Dougal.

 

‘Sleeping on your _own_.’

 

‘Right, right.’

 

Ted blinked at him, searching his face for any suggestion that he might not understand what was going on. It was very difficult to tell with Dougal sometimes.

 

‘Tell you what, Dougal,’ he said carefully, as Dougal picked his crayon back up and resumed drawing. ‘Why don’t you stay put in our room, where you’re used to sleeping, and I’ll take the guest bedroom?’

 

‘Whatever you think’s best, Ted,’ said Dougal vaguely, concentrating hard on joining two lines together.

 

‘Then you won’t have to bother moving your things.’

 

‘Yeah.’

 

Ted found himself a bit nonplussed by his friend’s calm reaction.

 

‘It wouldn’t really be the end,’ he continued feebly. ‘I’ll only be across the hall. If you ever need me... And whenever we have a visitor I’ll come back and sleep with you – In the room I mean!’

 

Jack unexpectedly snarled from his corner of the room, and Ted’s stomach leapt. He whirled around in his chair, fearful the old man may have heard his slip up, but found he was still asleep.

 

‘Right, so,’ chirped Dougal.

 

‘Right,’ said Ted, swallowing a lump in his throat as he turned slowly back around, watching as Dougal swapped his blue crayon for a purple. ‘Great.’

 

 

 

Removing his belongings from the room he’d shared with Dougal for nearly four years was far more difficult than Ted could ever have predicted. He had the masochistic temptation to leave a few of his own photos and smaller possessions where they were for now, but decided to be sensible and take everything. If he didn’t, he knew it might confuse Dougal... and himself.

 

It _still_ wasn’t sitting right with him; despite the many good reasons for his moving plan, something about the whole thing felt forced and unnecessary. He wasn’t simply used to sleeping with Dougal, he’d come to enjoy it; the late night chats, the early morning lie-ins, and in particular, the occasional cuddle.

 

Mrs. Doyle shifted the main bulk of his things, going two and fro along the corridor with bundles of clothes and smaller items balanced on top. As she staggered in and out of the spare bedroom, Ted looked around him dazedly. He recalled how this had been his room when he’d first arrived on the island, and how he’d very much enjoyed sleeping in a double bed; one of few small luxuries after his banishment. Moving over to the twin bedroom three years later had ironically been to stop Dougal (who’d taken a bit of a shine to Ted just five minutes after being introduced to him), from creeping in to sleep beside him whenever he’d been lonely. Over the following weeks, more and more of Ted’s belongings had been moved, and that bedroom had become ‘Ted and Dougal’s room’. He’d never intended for it to become a permanent arrangement, but before he’d realised it – he’d grown used to it.

 

‘Feck’s sake,’ Ted muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

 

The last time he’d been in here was when he kicked Bishop Brennan up the arse; a memory that filled him with pride and horror simultaneously. At least it was over now; he was convinced Dick hadn’t actually thought he’d go through with it and he had, so there. That was the last time Ted would ever make a bet with _him_ again... For at least another year, anyway. And as a plus, they hadn’t seen or heard from Brennan since. There was a rumour going around that the bishop was in some sort of trouble, what for, Ted didn’t know. He wondered if perhaps someone else had finally gotten wind of Brennan’s son, and was stirring things up for the Church.

 

Ted moved to stare out of the window, wincing at the memory of crashing through it during his first attempt at kicking the bishop. After a moment, he heard Mrs. Doyle shuffle into the room behind him.

 

‘There we are!’ she said cheerfully. ‘Your pyjamas are in the drawer there, Father.’

 

‘Thank you, Mrs. Doyle,’ he said, turning to her. ‘Is that everything?’

 

‘Yes, all your little bits and pieces gathered up and shipped over!’

 

Ted nodded thoughtfully as Mrs. Doyle pushed the door back to hang his dressing gown up on the back of it.

 

‘It’s funny,’ he said, watching her move to fussily straighten the double duvet out on the bed. ‘Dougal doesn’t seem all that bothered by me moving. Remember all the trouble we had settling him in?’

 

‘Oh, yes!’ she said, smiling.

 

‘The hours we spent looking for his He-Man sheets.’

 

‘Ah, he wouldn’t go to bed without them.’

 

‘And even when he did have them he wouldn’t sleep.’

 

‘Oh, yes that’s right!’

 

‘...Yes. That was an interesting month, all right.’

 

Mrs. Doyle sighed wistfully.

 

‘I spent many a happy hour warming him up his milk before bed, with just a teaspoon of honey – and a little _dash_ of cinnamon on top,’ she said, and then her wrinkled face twisted in excitement. ‘In fact, I’ll ask him if he wants one tonight! Could I get you anything, Father?’

 

Ted waved her off politely.

 

‘Oh, no, thank you,’ he said.

 

‘Are you sure?’

 

‘I’m sure.’

 

‘It’s no trouble at all, Father.’

 

‘I’m all right, Mrs. Doyle.’

 

‘Nothing, Father? Why, you’ll excuse me for saying so, but you look as though you could use a cup today.’

 

‘Oh, I’m grand. I just... I thought Dougal would maybe be a little sad or something at me moving. But, no – ! He’s completely fine.’

 

‘Well, there comes a time for everything!’

 

‘Heh! Of course.’

 

‘He’s obviously growing out of childish ways.’

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘It’s all about independence for a young man, isn’t it?’

 

‘Well, quite.’

 

‘They’re all need, need, need one minute and then – just like that, they don’t need anymore!’

 

‘Hm.’

 

‘I mean it really is as though he doesn’t need _you_ at all anymore; isn’t it, Father?’

 

‘Well – ’

 

‘In fact, you might as well just _not_ be here for all that he needs you now!’

 

‘Yes – thank you, Mrs. Doyle.’

 

‘Yes, well, it is for the best, Father.’

 

‘Is it?!’ Ted snapped.

 

Mrs. Doyle started at his tone, and eyed him warily.

 

‘I mean it _is_ four years coming to an end, just like that,’ he continued. ‘Or maybe I’m just crazy, you know? Perhaps I’m imagining all that time we spent together?’

 

‘ _Oh_ , you’re just getting used to the idea, Father,’ she said, gesturing dismissively and walking towards the door, before turning back. ‘What you need is a nice up of tea!’

 

She bustled out, crooning shrilly to herself.

 

A cup of tea did not snap Ted out of his mood, and he only became more depressed as the afternoon wore into the evening. When it was bedtime, Dougal still didn’t seem to find anything significant in their changed routine, just cheerily bidding Ted goodnight when they crossed paths in the hall. Afterwards, Ted lay on the double bed in his new bedroom, blinking into the semi-darkness. Even with a few of his things placed here and there, the guest room felt sparse and cold. He kept listening out for Dougal’s bedroom door sounding, without a clue of what he, or Dougal, would do if it did.

 

He didn’t realise he’d fallen asleep until he felt the bed frame wobble slightly and the mattress dip beside him.

 

‘Oh, _Dougal_ ,’ he said groggily, eyes still shut. ‘You must try and last _one_ night alone.’

 

He was just starting to feel the tiniest bit smug that things obviously weren’t _quite_ as easy for Dougal as he’d been making out, before a blinding pain exploded in his right eye socket as a big, hairy fist landed across it from out of nowhere.

 

‘FECK OFF!’ barked the owner of the fist in the darkness.

 

Ted fell out of bed in the ensuing scuffle.

 

 

 

After wrestling Jack back into his room and pyjamas, Ted locked the door and dazedly returned to his own bedroom. He had a rather bleary exchange with himself before deciding to change the sheets on his bed to be on the safe side, which he managed very slowly, and then he left again to go to the bathroom. After applying some cream and plasters to the other small wounds Jack had given him in the fight, he studied his puffy eye in the mirror above the sink gloomily. He wasn’t looking forward to the next few weeks. Whenever the possibility of him and Dougal separating had come up in the past, he’d been so concerned for Dougal having troubles that he hadn’t given any thought to his own feelings, and never imagined it would be _only_ be him to struggle.

 

Ted chuckled bitterly. _His_ _feelings_ ; the main cause of all this grief. Why did this have to happen _now_ , when he’d finally begun to accept that Craggy Island was his home? Why, when he’d only just fully acknowledged his responsibilities as Dougal’s friend? Why not earlier, when he could have taken action then and maybe saved himself at least some of this hurt? But then, he supposed, things rarely ever went Ted Crilly’s way so why _would_ they start to now?

 

He shuffled back out into the dark corridor, not particularly looking forward to returning to his lonely bed. He yearned to go back to his old room; to his narrow mattress... or maybe this time, to slide onto his friend’s bed and be the one to pull the Dougal close for a change. Ted shook his head. He really was becoming a pathetic old man.

 

He went back to his new room, eyes downcast with fatigue; immediately shutting the door behind him and locking it in case Jack decided to revisit. He turned around and looked up, only to jump sharply at finding Dougal standing there in his pyjamas and red dressing gown, hair unkempt and looking lost.

 

‘Dougal!’ he yelped in surprise.

 

‘You weren’t in bed, Ted!’ said Dougal, visibly disturbed.

 

‘I _know_ , Dougal, because I’ve moved in here, remember?’

 

‘Why would you do that?’

 

‘Remember we spoke about it being the right time?’

 

‘What?!’

 

Ted rolled his eyes.

 

‘Come on, Dougal,’ he said. ‘We had a long conversation about it at lunch, _and_ again after supper – About you getting your own room? You know, I said about how you’d feel more independent?’

 

Dougal just stared at him.

 

‘You _saw_ Mrs. Doyle moving my things out!’ Ted continued. ‘Remember she kept offering you rock cakes? And you accepted one, and hurt your tooth? ...You were reading your comic?’

 

‘Oh right, yeah!’ said Dougal, relaxing suddenly. ‘Sorry about that, Ted. Anyway, I was looking for you, and saw the light was on in here.’

 

‘That’s all right,’ said Ted, waving him off.

 

Dougal nodded once and they looked at each other for a moment. Ted watched him with a sense of foreboding, knowing what was coming but only half hoping it wouldn’t.

 

‘Well, seeing as I’m here,’ said Dougal, moving towards the bed.

 

Ted hastily darted forwards to place a hand on his shoulder, halting him.

 

‘ _Ted_ ,’ Dougal whined. ‘I want – ’

 

‘I know,’ said Ted forlornly. ‘I _know_ you do. And I’m sorry, Dougal, but we really do need to try and spend the nights apart from each other now.’

 

‘But why? Are you thinking of going away again?’

 

‘No, I’m not going anywhere.’

 

‘Is it America? Or will you go back to Dublin?’

 

Ted shook his head, guilt hammering down on him as he swore internally at Dougal being unable to recall a conversation they’d just had, but able to remember the events of last year. How often during those weeks Ted was absent had Dougal woken in the night and gone looking for him? How many times had he lain there alone, cuddling his duvet to him in the way he did whenever Ted had refused to let him into his bed? _God_ , Ted was just a big bastard, wasn’t he?

 

‘Don’t you like me anymore, Ted?’ asked Dougal, his voice wavering slightly.

 

Oh, no. Ted couldn’t cope if Dougal cried. For someone so childlike, Dougal barely ever got upset. He was remarkably resilient and positive; far more so than Ted or even Mrs. Doyle with her blind faith that a cup of tea could set everything right. But on the rare occasion Dougal cried, it was possibly the most awful thing Ted had ever experienced.

 

‘Dougal,’ he said. ‘Of _course_ I still like you.’

 

And it was true. Dougal’s constant questions and failure to understand things could certainly be irritating, but Ted had never disliked him, let alone hated him. It wouldn't be possible to hate Dougal, he thought; like trying to hate a puppy or something, which was just one of many things that had made Ted’s feelings for him so difficult to pinpoint.

 

Dougal still looked miserable; his eyes big and watery, so Ted held out his arms and he moved into the hug, tucking his head against Ted’s chest. Ted held him tight, rocking them both gently. He closed his eyes and leant down to smell Dougal’s hair, letting the lovely, clean scent fill his nostrils. After a few moments, Ted felt his cock give a twinge; wanting to harden, and he clenched his jaw in the effort to keep focus and shifted his hips away slightly. He knew he was probably about to do something he’d regret, but Dougal was hurting, and therefore intervention was needed. Lord, he hoped he wasn’t going to wreck everything.

 

He pulled away gently, nodding towards the bed when Dougal looked up at him. He felt his heart jump slightly as Dougal removed his dressing gown and they climbed under the duvet together, as though they were an ordinary couple. Ted settled back against the headboard, automatically opening his right arm, and Dougal shifted up under it to settle against him. Ted lowered his arm and gave Dougal’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

 

‘I’m going to tell you this because I can’t have you thinking I don’t like you,’ said Ted. ‘That will never happen. In fact it would be completely impossible because... well. I love you, Dougal.’

 

‘Do you, Ted?’ asked Dougal, blinking up at him wetly.

 

Ted nodded, briefly tightening his arm around him.

 

‘Yeah.’

 

Dougal was quiet for a moment, staring into space.

 

‘Father Cave told Father Gallagher he loved him,’ he said finally. ‘Do you remember, Ted?’

 

‘I do, yes,’ said Ted, nodding awkwardly.

 

‘He seemed sad when he told him.’

 

‘Yes, well... He thought we were all going to die.’

 

‘You seem sad, too. But we’re not on a plane that’s about to crash now.’

 

Ted grimaced.

 

‘I’m not too sure about that,’ he muttered.

 

‘We’re _not_ , Ted,’ Dougal insisted.

 

‘No. No, we’re not.’

 

‘Why are you sad, then?’

 

‘...Because I want something I can’t have.’

 

‘What’s that?’

 

‘Oh, it’s a bit complicated, Dougal.’

 

Dougal looked at him closely, and Ted fidgeted uncomfortably.

 

‘What’s wrong with your eye, Ted?’ Dougal asked after a short while.

 

‘Oh,’ said Ted, and mimed punching himself in the face. ‘Jack.’

 

‘Ah, right.’

 

‘We’ll have to go back to padlocking the front door if he’s started up his nude night-time strolls again.’

 

‘That looks really sore, Ted.’

 

‘Yeah, it is a bit.’

 

‘Ted,’ Dougal whispered, and Ted tilted his head down to hear him better.

 

At that moment, Dougal placed his hand on Ted’s chest and leant up to gently press his lips to Ted’s brow, just above his bruised eye.

 

‘Don’t be sad, Ted,’ he said quietly after he pulled away, lips making a soft noise against Ted's skin. ‘I love you too, you know.’

 

Ted stared, still tingling slightly from where Dougal had touched him. They’d never kissed before, not even so chastely. They sometimes hugged, and they had slept cuddled up to each other a few times; they pawed at each other and touched during their conversations, and Ted was even certain they might have _danced_ together drunkenly once or twice, but they had never exchanged kisses of any kind. Dougal seemed nervous; his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted, perhaps aware of the boundary he’d just crossed. Could he - on some level - feel the same way for him, Ted wondered?

 

‘Dougal, you know last night?’ he asked, suddenly determined.

 

‘...I think so?’

 

‘Well, last night you said you loved me then as well.’

 

‘Did I?’

 

Ted sighed, his hope waning already.

 

‘You did,’ he said, watching Dougal give a little smile.

 

‘Well, I _do_ , Ted.’

 

‘See – do you remember that time when we discussed how there are different _kinds_ of love?’

 

Dougal was beginning to look confused again.

 

‘I’ll start over,’ said Ted quickly. ‘Dougal, I should be honest with you. The reason I thought it might be best to move in here was because I thought that my feelings for you, while loving, might be... inappropriately so.’

 

Dougal frowned and looked down at the covers, apparently still no more clued-in. Ted, his heart sinking as he realised that this had to be confirmation his friend couldn’t possibly feel the same way, made himself carry on. Dougal deserved the truth, whether or not he understood it.

 

‘You see, typically, priests aren’t supposed to have these feelings for _anyone_ , let alone for other priests. And I am a fair bit older than you. Now, if you don’t feel the same way then we’ll say no more about it, but we might have to rethink – this.’ He gestured between the two of them. ‘But if you do – feel the same way, that is, then I suppose all of that might not matter so much, and it might... be nice.’

 

‘What do you mean, Ted?’ asked Dougal. ‘What is it you want?’

 

Ted took a deep breath.

 

‘You,’ he said. ‘I want you. You see, I love you, and I want you. But I love you in a way I don’t love anyone else... And I _want_ you in a way I don’t want anyone else. Are you beginning to understand now?’

 

‘You mean – ’ said Dougal, his eyes wide with uncertainty. ‘You mean, you love me like you want to – to _kiss_ me?’

 

‘Yes,’ said Ted sadly. ‘And I never want to leave you. I want to take care of you, and... be with you. And I actually love hugging you and – and being in bed with you, but it’s hard sometimes, because I – ’

 

He was unable to finish the sentence, but he could see Dougal’s mouth open slightly in surprise. This was it; the entire conversation was now counting down to the moment when Dougal understood, recoiled in horror, and ran away from him forever.

 

‘Is that why you’re sad, then?’ Dougal asked him after a few moments.

 

‘Yes,’ Ted whispered, shutting his eyes in complete despair. ‘I’m so sorry, Dougal.’

 

‘I don’t want to make you sad.’

 

Ted's eyes snapped back open.

 

‘Oh, _no_ , you could never do that,’ he said imploringly. ‘It’s _not_ your fault that you can’t give me what I want. I only wish I had more self control, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.’

 

‘But I want to make you happy, Ted.’

 

‘You do. You being my friend makes me happy. I’ve never had a friend like you before.’

 

‘But you’re _not_ happy.’

 

‘I’m fine, really.’

 

‘But, _Ted_ – ’

 

Dougal was looking terribly depressed again, but he seemed to be seriously considering what he was about to say next, which was unusual. Ted rubbed his shoulder in encouragement, trying not to cry himself, and waited patiently for him to find the words.

 

‘ – I want to kiss you too,’ said Dougal finally.

 

Ted’s heart fluttered, and he tensed, hardly daring to believe it.

 

‘And I... When we’re in bed,’ Dougal continued, blushing deeply. ‘When we’re like this – I knew you didn’t mind it always, but I didn’t think you _loved_ it.’

 

‘I do,’ said Ted. ‘And that’s why it was difficult sometimes.’

 

‘I never wanted to annoy you; I just really wanted to be with you. I always want to be with you.’

 

‘...Like how  _I_ want to be with you?’

 

‘Yeah. I love it, but especially when it’s just you and me, Ted... I hate it when you go away, or when you let nuns touch you.’

 

Ted frowned in confusion, unable to recall any of the sisters of their acquaintance being particularly tactile.  

 

‘A-And I want us – ’ Dougal stammered. ‘I want you to...’

 

He trailed off, seeming embarrassed and unsure of how to classify his desires but, Ted realised in astonishment, evidently _quite aware of them_.

 

Slowly, Ted brought a hand to Dougal’s face, giving his red cheek a gentle pinch and then stroking it with his thumb. Dougal gave him a small smile, and Ted chuckled softly. He was so lovely.

 

He’d never considered that Dougal’s need to constantly be around him might be because he just liked him _that much_ , as opposed to simply not wanting to be alone. Or that he might be able to register emotions like jealousy. Dougal was normally so happy in himself; so confident despite knowing his many limitations that Ted kind of hadn’t thought him capable. Not like Ted; _he_  knew envy and resentment like the back of his hand. He was always looking for greener grass, and comparing what he didn’t have to what others did. And _he_ had certainly felt jealousy regarding Dougal and other people before. He recalled when Dougal had struck up a brief friendship with Father Damien; of feeling somewhat left out despite knowing what an idiotic little prick ‘Damo’ was, and the thought that he was perhaps too old to share a similar bond with his curate. And at the time, there had been just that hint of something more; a slight fear that he might lose his friend, or that Dougal might share other, more intimate things with Damien. Thankfully, Dougal had seemed to heed Ted’s words after the whistle incident, and Damien was soon sent away from Craggy Island anyway. Dougal hadn’t seemed to pine much after his lost companion, and they rarely mentioned him.

 

‘What are we like, eh?’ said Ted, laughing awkwardly with a sniff and wiping at his own teary eyes.

 

Dougal grinned back, his eyes not looking quite so watery now.

 

‘I don’t know, Ted,’ he said.

 

‘Can I...?’ Ted asked quietly, leaning in.

 

‘Yeah!’ said Dougal enthusiastically, going just a little cross-eyed as he tried to focus on Ted’s approaching face. ‘What?’

 

Ted shook his head very slightly, amused, but kissed Dougal softly on the lips, still stroking his face. Dougal was still at first, but when Ted let the kiss break, his hands flew to Ted’s shoulders. Ted kissed him again, breathing in Dougal’s scent as they both shut their eyes. After just a short while Dougal pulled away and ducked his head down shyly, biting his lips to stop from giggling.

 

‘All right?’ Ted asked softly, uncertain of Dougal’s reaction.

 

‘Yeah,’ said Dougal, grinning. ‘Wow!’

 

Ted smiled back, also reeling slightly himself, but felt his dread start to return as a thought came to him. He wrapped both arms around Dougal and pulled him closer.

 

‘You, erm...’ he began cautiously. ‘You do realise we’ll have to keep this a secret, don’t you, Dougal? No one will be able to know about us. Not even Jack or Mrs. Doyle.’

 

‘No one?’

 

‘No one. It could be very serious if anyone finds out.’

 

‘Why not? Everyone’s always excited when two people they know go out with each other.’

 

‘Ah, yes. But that’s when those people _aren’t_ two priests, you see. Surely you remember swearing your oath?’

 

Dougal looked affronted then.

 

‘Ah, come _on_ now, Ted.’

 

‘Sorry, of course you – ’

 

‘I _never_ swear!’

 

‘ _No_ , Dougal – Nevermind. What you must realise is that a lot of people are not okay with two men or two women having feelings for each other. It’s a very complicated issue.’

 

‘What do you think of it, Ted?’

 

‘Me? Well, I suppose I didn’t really think about it until I realised I fancied you.’

 

Dougal guffawed, making Ted roll his eyes but he carried on tentatively.

 

‘And... the Church in particular tends to not... look favourably on the subject.’

 

‘...But they’re wrong,’ said Dougal.

 

Ted paused.

 

‘Oh, you do know something about it, then?’ he asked, and Dougal nodded.

 

‘The Church is always looking for things to be angry about, that’s what I’ve heard.’

 

‘Yes, well,’ said Ted uneasily. ‘As it happens, I think they _are_ wrong – on this particular matter. But I don’t think you or I should get too vocal about it, as we are _technically_ part of the Church.’

 

‘Fair enough, Ted.’

 

‘The point is, we must be careful. Just behave like everything’s normal.’

 

‘You mean like we did about Len’s secret son?’

 

‘Yes, that’s right. Except... _better_ than we did with that secret. God, if any of his superiors found out about us we’d have to forget the priesthood. They’d definitely try and separate us at the very least.’

 

Dougal blanched.

 

‘You mean – ?’ he began to say, and Ted nodded.

 

‘If they suspected anything, they might. You remember how Bishop Brennan used to threaten to send us away to different parishes? They could do so, even without evidence.’

 

‘But that’s terrible, Ted!’

 

‘Yes. And heaven knows what Father Jack would think if he found out. But don’t worry. I won’t let that happen. And it won’t get that far anyway because we’re going to be very careful, aren’t we?’

 

Dougal nodded vigorously.

 

‘Yes, Ted. I don’t want any of those things to happen.’

 

‘Me neither.’

 

They fell into silence again, and Ted held Dougal close as he pressed a couple of gentle kisses to his cheek. Dougal’s lips twitched in a little smile, but his eyes remained glazed over, and Ted knew he was thinking about something.

 

‘You all right?’ he asked him after a while.

 

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Dougal, snapping out of it. ‘Yeah.’

 

‘What are you thinking about?’

 

‘Oh, not much.’

 

He still looked rather lost, and Ted reached to stroke his hand.

 

‘Look, about last year,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry I left you on your own. I promise I’ll never do that again.’

 

‘Oh, that’s all right, Ted. You came back.’

 

‘Yeah.’

 

‘Will you come back to our room tomorrow?’

 

‘Yes, definitely.’

 

‘Great!’

 

‘Maybe we can push the two beds together.’

 

‘That’d be nice. Why?’

 

‘...So that we can sleep together.’

 

‘Oh, yes! Then we can cuddle. I love cuddling.’

 

Ted gently tightened his hold on Dougal again, and bit his lip. He wondered how much his friend knew about sex and relationships, if anything. Dougal had never identified any crushes, even off the television. But then, Ted realised, _he_ didn’t know an awful lot about that kind of thing either, despite having been attracted to Dougal for so long. He hadn’t exactly been doing his research. He’d had enough trouble getting through Polly Clarke’s novels without Mrs. Doyle side eyeing him in disgust, or sneaking them off under her tea tray to burn later. Somehow he didn’t think her quiet censorship of his reading material would remain so discreet if he turned to something more homoerotic. His fantasies had been getting progressively more heady and passionate, but things all became a bit of a blur once he started imagining scenarios like the one featuring him and Dougal alone on a beach with a bottle of sunscreen. It was probably a good idea to know what he was dealing with.

 

‘Right, so... have you ever been with anyone before?’ he asked finally.

 

‘ – You mean like in the same room?’ asked Dougal.

 

‘No, no. I mean, obviously you’ve done _that_. I meant, have you ever been with anyone else romantically?’

 

‘Oh. No.’

 

Ted had been expecting this answer.

 

‘Do you – ’ he began awkwardly. ‘Do you know anything about the sorts of things that couples do?’

 

‘Erm...’ said Dougal, looking around hesitantly.

 

‘Anything at all?’

 

‘...They cut each other’s hair.’

 

Ted blinked.

 

‘Hmm?’

 

‘Like Mary and John cut each other’s hair,’ said Dougal.

 

‘Ah, I see,’ said Ted. ‘Well, yes, they do. Although, between you and me, there’s an excellent example of why couples should leave that to the professionals. I mean, he really gave her a _really_ short hair cut the last time. It didn’t really suit her.’

 

‘Oh, I think you’re right there, Ted.’

 

‘And then she made a real mess of him, remember?’

 

‘Ah, that was a very sad accident. She couldn’t have seen his ear, there.’

 

‘Well, neither can we, now.’

 

‘No.’

 

Ted shook his head. He didn’t really want to think about the O’Leary’s right now. There was something definitely off there, but he had more pressing matters; like his own relationship.

 

‘Anyway, Dougal. I was actually talking about what couples do in _bed_ with each other... you know?’

 

‘Ah, right,’ said Dougal, as he grinned and then nuzzled at Ted’s chest. ‘They do this.’

 

‘Ah,’ Ted repeated, smiling as he stroked his hair. ‘And what is _this_?’

 

‘Cuddling, Ted.’

 

‘And what about kissing?’

 

Dougal pushed up off the mattress to kiss him softly. Ted closed his eyes and hummed against him contentedly.

 

 ‘Well,’ he said when they pulled apart after a moment, ‘let’s leave it there for now, shall we?’

 

Dougal’s eyes sparkled mischievously.

 

‘What are you after, Ted?’ he asked.

 

‘Nothing, Dougal. Nothing right now.’

 

Dougal looked as though he was about to protest, but then he gave a big yawn, his eyelids drooping.

 

‘Want to go to sleep now?’ Ted asked him.

 

‘ – Mm hm, tired.’

 

Ted leaned in to kiss him gently again, and then pulled away to turn the bedside lamp off. Now in darkness, Dougal wriggled down into the bed, and Ted did the same, reaching for him. They shuffled about a bit beneath the duvet, and then settled comfortably in each other’s arms.

 

‘Ted?’ said Dougal in the darkness.

 

‘Yes, Dougal?’ replied Ted.

 

‘I’m so happy.’

 

‘Me too, Dougal. Me too.’

 

‘Ah, good. Please don’t be sad anymore. I’ll look after you.’

 

‘Thank you. And I’ll look after you.’

**Author's Note:**

> I _have_ written some smut to accompany this fic, but I'm not sure how I'm going to publish that part yet. It will either be a second part or just a short smutty bit. Won't be up for a little while though!


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